


Feel Me, Completer

by veritas_st



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritas_st/pseuds/veritas_st
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s taken a while, this more playful side of Derek, the one more likely to relax and have a joke, the one less burdened with guilt and despair.  Like he’s taking strength from his pack to overcome the death of his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel Me, Completer

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from TV on the Radio's song Wolf Like Me.

Stiles spins with ease out of Derek’s way, he doesn’t even think about it, sidesteps and spins, plates in hand as Derek reaches to the side of him and grabs the pizza boxes. There’s loud noises coming from the sitting room and Derek rolls his eyes as Stiles nudges him in the side and makes his way, with plates in hand, to the sitting room. 

“Don’t forget the…” 

“Got it,” Stiles calls back over his shoulder. Isaac looks up as Stiles enters, grins and grabs the plates from him, Allison tries to remove herself from Scott’s clutches only to be pulled back into his lap. Lydia sighs heavily, and blows across her still wet nails as Jackson feigns annoyance, even though everyone knows he actually lives for these nights. “Scott, use a napkin please,” Stiles admonishes as Scott grabs a slice of pizza from the box Derek’s shoves at him. 

“Yes mom,” Scott replies through a mouthful of pepperoni and Allison elbows him in the stomach. 

There’s a moment when Derek freezes, his hand braced on Stiles’s back as he leans around him to grab the box back from Scott. His hand twitches and then Lydia laughs and Allison joins in and Derek moves, his hand sliding off Stiles’s shoulders, and Stiles wonders what the hell just happened. 

…

“That’s the last of them,” Stiles says as he closes the door to Isaac, the poor little lost puppy is still hanging on Derek’s every word, even after two years and more often than not Stiles has to actually push him out of the door at the end of these nights. Not that he can blame him though, after the kids life, and then what with being a fugitive and all. Sometimes Derek lets Isaac stay and for some reason that Stiles’s can fathom, it leaves an unpleasant taste in Stiles’s mouth when he does. 

“Thanks,” Derek runs his hand over Stiles’s buzzcut with a smile. 

It’s taken a while, this more playful side of Derek, the one more likely to relax and have a joke, the one less burdened with guilt and despair. Like he’s taking strength from his pack to overcome the death of his family. Stiles still sees the pain in him sometimes though, when Derek thinks no one else is looking. Or even if he knows Stiles is looking it’s like he can be the old guilt ridden unsure Derek around Stiles. It catches Stiles off guard though, makes him reel back as he’s so used to seeing strong, confident and sure Derek now. 

“Have you decided yet?” Derek asks, his back to Stiles with his hands in the sink as Stiles wanders back into the kitchen with an armful of empty pizza boxes. 

“Nope,” Stiles replies, dumping the boxes on the floor and stamping on them. Derek turns and Stiles watches as the cardboard crumples under his feet. He knows Derek’s giving him the patented Alpha look. “That look doesn’t work on me Derek,” Stiles says, picking a box off the floor, “I’m not pack,” he folds it in half and shoves it into the trash can. 

“Yes you are,” Derek says, with his weary voice, the one he uses when Scott’s being a dumbass, or Jackson’s being a douche, or Stiles is claiming he’s not pack, “and anyway, you have to decide sooner or later, the deadline’s rapidly approaching.” 

Stiles sighs and Derek flicks water at him from his fingers. 

“Fine, I’ll make a decision when I get home.” Derek’s shoulders tense and he braces his arms straight against the end of the kitchen counter. 

“Stiles, this isn’t something you can just decide in one night. Have you even spoken to your dad?” Derek turns and Stiles rubs at the back of his neck. 

“No..?”

“Wrong answer,” Derek growls softly, his playful one and Stiles doesn’t even want to think about how weird it is that he knows the difference now and dodges as Derek launches at him. 

“Shit,” Stiles is off, sprinting up the stairs two at a time but Derek appears in front of him, grin on his face, “how the hell do you always do that?” 

“You should know by now to run _outside_ not upstairs,” Derek’s face sobers and Stiles hauls in a breath and curls his hand around the banister. “College is important Stiles.” 

“I know,” Stiles whines and Derek pokes him in the forehead. 

“Think about it.” 

“Anyone would think you want me out of your hair,” Stiles grumbles and Derek narrows his eyes slightly before shrugging. 

“I do.”

“Liar.” 

…

“So I’ll see you tomorrow,” Derek’s holding onto the door frame and Stiles stops midway through stepping down the steps. He stumbles and turns just in time to catch the smirk on Derek’s face. 

“What’s tomorrow?” Stiles asks, “do we have a date I’m not aware of?”

“Training.” 

“Aw man, really? It’s Saturday, I have a final on Monday,” Stiles whines and Derek raises an eyebrow. 

“Don’t give me that crap, I happen to know you’re acing that class,” Derek puts one hand on his hip and Stiles nearly laughs at the sassy way he does it. 

“Urgh, _fine_ but I don’t see why I have to train, I can talk myself out of most situations, and if not, you’ll come racing in like the attack dog you are and save my perfect ass. Like always,” Stiles grins and Derek rolls his eyes again. 

“Your ass isn’t perfect and I want you safe Stiles, the others can take care of themselves, but you…”

“Are a pathetic human, I know,” Stiles finishes it for him and Derek is down the steps in front of him before he can blink. 

“Human yes, pathetic no. Just…don’t argue with me on this Stiles ok? Anything else is fair game,” Derek pushes at his shoulder and Stiles wrinkles his nose but nods. 

“Ok, I’ll be here.” 

…

The blindfold around Stiles’s eyes is soft, thick enough that only a hint of light shines through and Derek’s fingernails catch against his scalp as he ties it at the back of Stiles’s head. 

“Ready?” Derek asks, voice low in Stiles’s ear and Stiles swallows. He hates this part, he usually ends up on his ass with Derek towering over him looking pissed and disappointed. But he nods anyway and Derek pats his shoulder. “Good.” Derek’s hand slides across his shoulder then he’s gone and all Stiles can hear is the whisper of wind through the trees. 

“Concentrate,” the voice comes from his left and Stiles spins, probably too far, the blindfold disorientates him, but then its meant to, “you’re over thinking Stiles,” behind him this time. Stiles spins again.

“That’s what I do,” Stiles calls out, arms reaching out likes he’s expecting to walk into something. Leather brushes against his fingertips and he lunges, falls and gets a mouthful of leaves. He lifts his hands to pull the blindfold off but Derek stops him. 

“Don’t think…just feel,” he says, hauls Stiles to his feet and then is gone again. 

“Feel what?” Stiles calls and he feels breath huff out against his lips. He reaches out and misses, feels the leather slip through his hands. 

“You’re not even trying, Stiles,” Derek sounds exasperated, he also sounds like he’s right in front of Stiles but Stiles knows that probably not the case. He stops, takes a deep breath and tries to block everything out except the minute sounds of things moving around him. He holds his breath, hears the crunch of a leaf to his right and moves. His fingers curl into leather and he tumbles, limbs tangling as he lands on Derek who groans and then laughs, “good.” 

Stiles pulls off the blindfold and grins down at Derek. He’s grinning too, almost blindingly so, looking pleased and amused. 

“See, you can do it,” Derek says and pushes at Stiles shoulder. Stiles scrambles to his feet and holds a hand out for Derek. Derek takes it and gets up, brushes down his jeans. 

“You were being extra noisy though,” Stiles says and Derek gives him a completely forced innocent look. 

“No I wasn’t,” he smiles and Stiles scowls, “oh come on, don’t tell me that didn’t feel good.” 

Stiles grins, “ok fine, that felt damn good.” 

“One more time,” Stiles groans as Derek reaches out to take the blindfold, “one, I promise.” 

It’s almost like something has clicked, and Stiles finds it easier this time to tune everything out, to focus on Derek and how he moves away, the way he streaks fast past Stiles, touches him every now and then. He can hear him, where he moves and he moves closer, practically silent, but Stiles curls his hand into a fist and punches out. It connects with something hard and there’s a grunt and Stiles rips off his blindfold. 

“Holy shit I did it,” Derek’s grimacing, hand to his jaw, but he looks impressed as he pulls his hand away and flexes his jaw. 

“Nice,” he says and then grins and Stiles practically bounces on his feet, “we may actually make a fighter out of you yet,” Derek grimaces again and Stiles pokes him in the jaw. 

“Did that hurt?” 

“Takes a hell of a lot more than a pansy human punch to hurt me,” Derek grins and Stiles kicks at his legs and laughs as Derek stumbles. “Ok next time, I wont be so nice.” 

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” Stiles asks, running his sleeve across his forehead. 

“Me, and I’m your Alpha.”

“Not technically,” Stiles sticks his tongue out and Derek shakes his head. 

“When are you going to grow up?”

“Never.”

…

“Should I be jealous?” Scott appears in his window and Stiles nearly drops his book. Scott does that sometimes, to keep Stiles on his toes he says, but its more likely to be because Scott likes to hear Stiles scream like a girl, and he’s done _that_ on more than one occasion. 

“Dude…use the door,” Stiles throws his pencil at Scott, “and jealous of what?” 

Scott lands silently on his bedroom floor and stands, “you and Derek.” 

“What?” Stiles shakes his head. Scott may be his best friend, but the guy sometimes comes out with completely insane things sometimes, like the time he wanted to Stiles to sneak into the movie theatre to see some R rated movie with him, even though Stiles’s dad seems to have some kind of homing device when it comes to Stiles and always catches them in the middle of doing something stupid. 

“Should I be jealous?” 

“Um…unless you’re harbouring secret gay feelings for me, and I’m harbouring secret gay feelings for Derek and Derek is harbouring secret gay feelings for me, then no, you shouldn’t be jealous…what the hell dude?” Stiles says and Scott wrinkles his nose. 

“You smell of him.”

“Ok don’t smell me man, it’s creepy when Derek does it, and its just plain weird when you do it.”

“I can’t help it, you smell like Alpha,” Scott sits down heavily next to Stiles. 

“Do you have a sudden urge to obey my every word?” Stiles asks and stares straight at Scott, lowers his voice, “ _go get me a coke_.” 

“Shut up, no,” Scott pushes at his shoulder, “just…I know Allison and I are usually together but you’re still my best friend, right?” Scott sounds small, younger than his 18 years and Stiles nudges his shoulder with his own. 

“Course, buddy, Derek’s just training me, think’s I need to be able to protect myself,” Stiles shrugs and Scott just looks at him with his ‘I really want to say something but I don’t know if you’ll hit me or not’ look. Stiles sighs, “what?” 

“Speaking of training, Allison wants to teach you how to shoot,” Scott picks at his thumb nail and Stiles sighs again. 

“Why doesn’t Allison ask me?” Scott has the grace to look embarrassed, “and why does she wants to teach me?” 

“Well…you’re…not a wolf,” he stutters. 

“Allison’s human unless it’s escaped your attention,” Stiles replies and Scott rolls his eyes. 

“Dude I know but she’s like full on Black Widow,” Scott gets that far away ‘I’m thinking of Allison’ look and Stiles pretends to gag. 

“Ok first of all, as cool as Allison is, she’s no black widow, secondly…” Scott does his kicked puppy look and Stiles sighs, “ _fine_ …why does everyone insist on turning me into some kind of half assed ninja?” 

…

“Allison’s going to teach me how to shoot,” Stiles says, two days later, curled up on Derek’s couch with _The Godfather_ playing low in the background. He nudges Derek’s thigh with his foot and Derek drags his eyes away from the TV. It’s one of their movie nights, started a while ago when Derek dropped into Stiles’s room and demanded to be shown what the big deal about _Iron Man_ was. Since then they’ve migrated to Derek’s house and they take it in turns to show the other a movie. It’s Derek’s choice this time and Stiles can’t seem to concentrate on the Mafia politics long enough to understand the damn movie. 

“Good,” Derek says absentmindedly and turns back to the screen. 

“I’m thinking of becoming a prostitute,” Stiles says and Derek nods, drops a hand to Stiles’s knee and pats it once. “I’m thinking of letting Scott bite me.” Derek’s hand tightens and he fixes Scott with a dark glare, “totally joking.” 

“I heard everything by the way, I would rethink the prostitution, not sure how much money you’d make,” Derek’s lips twitch at the corner. 

“Rude,” Stiles pokes him with his foot again and Derek’s hand grabs it and squeezes gently, “so what do you think?” 

“About Allison?” Stiles nods, “I think it’s a good idea,” Derek squeezes Stiles foot again at Stiles’s frown, “look,” he reaches out to the remote and pauses the movie, “not because you’re useless or defenceless, but because I think sometimes we need all the help we can get.” 

Stiles frowns again, “ok, I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you,” Derek reaches for the remote.

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you going to shut up now?” 

“No…I decided,” Derek says nothing, just tilts his head slightly to the side and waits for Stiles to say something. Stiles feels like there’s something else going on here, something other than just idle curiosity at Stiles’s choice. “I’m going to Pacifica,” he says and Derek frowns. 

“That’s…” 

“Really close I know.”

“Is that the best for you?” Derek’s frown deepens just as Stiles is starting to worry that maybe Derek does want him out of his hair. 

“It’s got the best Mythology courses in the state,” Stiles protests and Derek raises an eyebrow, “plus who’s going to look after my dad?” Derek remains silent and Stiles pushes at his thigh again, “and you.” 

“Oh you’re so important,” Derek says, there’s a small smile on his lips but there’s worry etched across his forehead. 

“If you want me further away…” Stiles starts and Derek rolls his eyes. 

“Idiot.” 

…

“Keep your arm straight,” Allison wrinkles her nose at Stiles who sighs and drops the bow from its tensed position. Allison sighs too, flips her hair off her shoulder. 

“Look, maybe I’m just not cut out for this, I mean, you have the whole Katniss Everdean thing going, that’s great, you work it. I, unfortunately, just don’t rock the Hawkeye look,” Stiles shrugs and Allison smiles at him, “I did punch Derek in the face blindfolded the other day.”

Allison’s grin wavers for a second. 

“Does he know you’re going?” 

“To Pacifica? Yeah, I told him, why?” Allison shrugs and plucks the bow from Stiles’s hands. 

“Just thought he should know.” There’s something about the way she says it, without looking at Stiles, that makes him curious, makes him wonder what everyone else knows that he doesn’t. 

“Ok what the hell is going on?” He asks and Scott jumps down from Derek’s porch where he was watching and comes over to them. 

“Nothing. I just remember something,” Scott’s got his ‘I’m changing the subject’ face on and Stiles sighs internally, “remember when your dad taught your mom to shoot? And we watched from behind that tree, and your mom knew we were there the whole time? Remember how your dad was with her?” Stiles feels a wave of sadness, the one he always feels when anyone mentions his mom, but he remembers. He remember his dad cajoling her, using firm but encouraging words, the way he would keep his hands on her until she got it, teaching with touches. 

“Yeah I remember, you know he teaches a lot like Derek…” Allison smiles at him and Stiles bites on his lip. 

“I think he’s getting it,” Allison says to Scott and Scott lets out a small laugh. 

“Wait…getting what? What am I getting?” There’s a realisation building slowly in Stiles’s head, a flutter of worry in his stomach and Allison pats his shoulder and smiles patronisingly at him. 

“Dude, you and Derek are like full on in love with each other,” Scott says. 

“No we’re not.” They can’t be, they’re friends, Stiles might even go so far as to say he was Derek’s best friend but in love with each other? No. 

“Yes you are. Like mates for life type of thing,” Scott says with a dopey grin on his face that Stiles has the sudden urge to punch off. 

“No. We’re. Not,” Stiles bites out, feeling a panic attack building behind his lungs. He drops his hands to his knees and drags in a breath and feels Allison’s hand rubbing small circles against his shoulder blades. 

“You’re like the den mother,” Scott continues and Stiles hears Allison smack him. 

“Shut up,” she mutters and then leans down to get into Stiles’s eyeline, “you ok?” 

“Peachy,” Stiles grumbles, drags in one last breath and stands straight. “For the record, I am not in love with Derek Hale, ok?” 

 

…

“What’s the matter with you?” Derek drops into his bedroom and Stiles doesn’t even jump. He wishes he did, but he’s gotten so used to it now, that he can almost tell when Derek’s just about to arrive, and Stiles wants to just stop feeling like that, because maybe that means he _is_ in love with Derek. 

“Nothing,” he snaps and Derek raises an eyebrow. 

“I can feel your teenage angst from my house, so spill,” Derek throws a book at Stiles, there’s a small smile on his face but there’s also worry. 

“I’m fine, and I do not have teenage angst,” Stiles mutters and Derek lets out a laugh. 

“Yes you do,” he says and sits down on Stiles’s bed, kicks his shoes off and lies back against the headboard, crosses one leg over the other. 

“Nothing I just…” Stiles shrugs and Derek sits up, fixes him with his Alpha stare. 

“Worried about your dad?”

“Exactly,” Stiles says, more than a little relieved that he doesn’t have to find a way to say _Allison and Scott think we’re in love with each other and I think they might have a point_. 

“He’ll be fine Stiles,” Derek says and Stiles nods. 

“When did this happen?” Derek frowns, confused and Stiles runs a hand over his hair, “this…us, friends, when did this happen?” 

“I can go,” Derek moves and Stiles stops him with a hand on his chest. 

“No, don’t be an idiot, I just was thinking out loud, you know we started with me nearly having to cut your arm off and now…well…” Stiles trails off at Derek’s amused look.

“Does it matter?” 

“I guess not,” Stiles admits, because it doesn’t matter, it never really has, all that matters is that Derek’s not alone anymore and he smiles more and he has someone he can talk to. 

“So, you going to show me how empty my life has been without _The Princess Bride_ or do I have to get Scott to show me?” Derek asks and Stiles practically throws himself across the room at Derek. 

“Don’t you dare.”

…

Stiles wakes to the sound of Derek’s heartbeat and the end credits of the movie. Their legs are tangled together and Derek’s got an arm around Stiles and Stiles has his head on Derek’s chest. That’s not unusual in itself, just another tick in the Stiles is in Love With Derek column, they have woken up like this many times before. But Derek’s lips are resting on the top of Stiles’s head where its usually his cheek. Stiles shifts and Derek slips into wakefulness in an instant. Derek doesn’t move though, just slides his lips off Stiles’s hair and rest his cheek there instead. 

“So?” Stiles asks, his own cheek smashed into Derek’s soft t-shirt. Derek tightens his grip on Stiles minutely. 

“Worth the fuss,” Derek replies and lapses into silence and Stiles’s mind chooses that moment to have a minor freak out about Derek, leaving his dad, going to college, and what if things aren’t the same when he gets back, what if Derek expands the pack and there’s no place for him anymore, what if…“stop freaking out,” Derek’s voice rumbles through his chest and Stiles lifts his head to look at him. 

“You wont kick me out will you?” Stiles asks and Derek opens one eye warily. 

“Did we move to my house?” he asks, lips curling at the corners. 

“No,” Stiles slaps at his chest, “of the pack.” Derek stills, his lips going straight and serious and Stiles counts to ten before he speaks again. 

“I thought you weren’t in my pack,” Derek says, opening both eyes and looking at Stiles, there’s a joke there somewhere but Stiles can’t seem to find it under all they’re not saying. 

“Well, I kinda am, aren’t I?” Derek’s lips curl again. 

“Yes you are and no I wont,” Stiles lets his head back down onto Derek’s chest just as there’s a knock at the door. 

“Stiles, dinner,” his dad calls through it and Derek tenses, “is Derek staying?” Stiles lifts his head and Derek shakes his. 

“Yeah, he’s staying.” Stiles grins down at Derek. 

“Brat.”

…

Everything happens so fast. One day Stiles is wondering what to have for dinner as his dad is working, pacing the house in just his boxers. The next, Prom is over (and Stiles did _not_ spend the whole time wondering if he should have invited Derek), Graduation is (praise the lord) over and done with and Stiles is packing up his life to move. 

So it’s only two hours down the road but still, it’s a big step for Stiles who has lived in Beacon Hills his entire life, who’s entire life now revolves around his dad, Derek, Scott and Allison, and to a certain extent Lydia, Jackson and Isaac. Derek comes by to help but ends up just getting in the way and slinking off out through the window with a mutters “I’ll come say goodbye.” 

And then suddenly, he’s packing up his jeep with Scott hanging around and his dad calling from the house about things he’s left behind. 

“So you’re gonna be home all the time right?” Scott asks, twirling his lacrosse stick around in his hands. Stiles nods, shoving his backpack into the back of his jeep and slamming the tailgate closed. 

“Course,” he says and then Scott’s pulling him into a brief, yet surprisingly strong hug. Stiles grunts and pats at Scott’s back. 

“Dude…werewolf strength,” Scott lets him go, “I’ll call you when I get there,” Scott nods, yells goodbye to Stiles’s dad and then runs off, throwing a wave over his shoulder just before he gets out of sight. 

“Ok, I think you’ve got everything,” his dad says as he walks towards the jeep. 

“And the kitchen sink,” Stiles grins and his dad pulls him into a rough hug. 

“Drive safe,” he mutters and then lets him go and Stiles nods. 

“I will,” he says and wishes they could say everything they want to. _I love you, I’m coming back, you’re all I have now_. They get it anyway, both of them do, but sometimes Stiles would like to be able to say it without his dad thinking he’s about to go off and a) commit suicide or b) do something incredibly stupid. “I’ll be home in a couple of weeks,” he says instead and his dad nods, like he gets it. 

He pats the jeeps hood and takes a step back and Stiles climbs into the front seat. 

“Not saying goodbye to Derek?” His dad asks. 

“I’m heading over there now,” his dad nods, like he gets everything. Stiles wishes _he_ got it, he starts the engine and pulls the jeep of the drive. 

His dad waves once before he heads back into the house. 

..

“Derek?” Stiles calls into the empty hallway. Derek’s no where to be seen, but that’s not usually weird, Derek sometimes likes to hide from Stiles and Stiles coming over for a seemingly noxious visit turns into a training session of hide and seek. 

“Down here,” Derek calls from the basement and Stiles frowns. Derek hasn’t, as far as Stiles knows, been down there since Kate, since that bitch. Stiles bristles and heads down into the basement. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles pops his head around the first door and finds Derek on his hands and knees, shirt off, a smudge of dirt across his chest and his hands in a bucket of water. 

“Cleaning,” Derek says, likes it’s obvious, which to be honest it is, the bucket a glaringly obvious clue. 

“Well duh, but why?” Stiles leans back against the door jamb and Derek leans back against his calves and runs his forearm across his forehead. 

“Good a time as any,” he shrugs, drops a scrubbing brush into the bucket and stands, pulls one arm in front of him and stretches, there’s a sickening _pop_ and Derek groans in pleasure at the same time and Stiles gags. 

“Derek…”

“You ready?” Derek asks, avoiding Stiles’s gaze. 

“What’s going on?” Stiles asks and Derek shakes his head, pulls his t-shirt over his head and Stiles ignores the stab of regret that settles in his stomach. 

“Just felt like a clean, no big deal,” he walks past Stiles and Stiles reaches out, curls his fingers around Derek’s wrist. Derek stops, looks down at their hands.

“Sure?” Derek nods, forces a smile across his mouth. 

“Come on,” he says, tugging his wrist out of Stiles’s grasp, “I’ve got something for you.”

“Presents,” Stiles says with glee and bounces after Derek. Derek shakes his head but climbs the stairs in front of Stiles. Stiles does certainly not check out his ass. 

Derek leads him into the sitting room and reaches onto the coffee table and grabs a zip up leather CD carrier. He pushes it into Stiles’s hands. 

“There,” he says and steps back awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders. Stiles smiles a pleased and confused smile at him and then unzips the case. 

“Derek,” he breathes. In the case is a copy of every single movie they ever watched together, organised by chronological order and Stiles looks back at Derek speechless. “I…I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say thank you,” Derek smiles slightly and suddenly Stiles has the uncontrollable urge to touch him. The CD case drops onto the couch and Stiles wraps his arms around Derek, burying his face into Derek’s neck. Derek tenses, but Stiles just holds on and eventually he feels Derek’s arms around him, tentative at first until he’s clutching Stiles just as hard as Stiles is clutching him. 

He has no idea how long they stay like that, Stiles breathing in his scent as he just holds onto him, and its so far from any sexual experience Stiles has had, but its by far the most intimate. Derek moves first, drops his arms and clears his throat and Stiles steps back, runs his hand across his buzzcut. 

“Thank you,” he says and Derek nods. 

“You’re welcome.” 

…

Derek’s hovering uncomfortably, and Stiles can still feel the shape of him in his arms. 

“Check in,” Derek says and Stiles smiles, pushes at Derek’s shoulder. 

“I’m not pack remember?” Derek raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes you are, you admitted it, remember?” Stiles climbs into his jeep and Derek steps into the space of the open door. 

“Damn it, guess there’s no getting away from you now is there?” Derek smiles and shakes his head. 

“No.”

“I’ll check in…I’ll be home in a couple of weeks anyway, and we can watch _Zulu_ ” Stiles wrinkles his nose and Derek sighs, shuts the door and Stiles winds the window down. 

“It’s a good movie,” Derek protests and Stiles rolls his eyes and starts his engine. 

“Sure it is,” he says sarcastically and Derek growls softly in the way that makes Stiles grin even more than normal, “so…” he trails off, unsure of how to say goodbye, unsure of if he even wants to. 

“Stiles?” Derek leans in through the window. 

“Yeah?”

“Get off my land before I rip your throat out with my teeth,” Derek’s eyes sparkle with amusement and Stiles starts to roll his window up around his head. Derek jerks his head out just in time and glares at Stiles through the glass, then rests his fingertips against it. Stiles resists the urge to do the same. 

“Not scary anymore,” he shouts through the glass and shifts his jeep into drive. 

Derek stands motionless in front of the house until he disappears from Stiles’s rearview. 

…

What with work, meeting new people and trying to settle into a life without werewolves, it’s two weeks before Stiles has a free enough moment to pick up the phone to Derek. He’s spoken to his dad a handful of times, to make sure he’s eating right, Scott’s called twice and Allison has grabbed the phone from him both times, but there’s hasn’t been long enough, a decent amount of time for Stiles to just sit, on his own, and call Derek. He doesn’t know why it matters, why he doesn’t want anyone else there, but he and Derek have always been protective about their…Stiles hesitates to think _relationship_. 

Truth is he’s missed Derek, to the point where sometimes, if he allows himself to think about it too much, he feels like there’s something heavy on his chest. He doesn’t know what the means though, is he just missing a friend, someone who’s become so important in his life? Or is he missing something else? His Alpha? The Pack Dad to his Pack Mom?

Stiles smacks himself in the forehead and scrolls through his contacts, highlights _D-Dog_ (because Stiles thought it was funny) and presses the send button. 

It goes to voicemail and Stiles frowns at the generic message, because of course Derek would never record his own message. 

“Hey…so…um…you ignoring me because I haven’t called? Or are you dealing with some highly important Alpha stuff? Just called to say hi,” Stiles hangs up and glares at his phone. It’s unlike Derek not to answer and his mind goes through worse case scenarios throughout the entire evening. He puts on _The Godfather_ and curls up under his duvet, imagines he hears Derek’s heartbeat under his ear until he falls asleep. 

…

“Stiles…there’s the hottest man I have ever seen in my life asking for you,” Cassie, Stiles’s room mate, shouts through the door, and then kicks it. Stiles groans, pulls the pillow over his head. 

“Go away,” he calls and he hears Cassie bang against the wood again. 

“If you don’t come out I might have to be restrained…seriously Stiles he’s like drop dead gorgeous,” she calls. Cassie’s sweet and completely nuts at the same time, she’s as much of a bitch as Lydia is, and can arm wrestle with the best of them. She informed Stiles they would be friends from day one and Stiles didn’t have any other choice. 

“Is he wearing a leather jacket?” Stiles calls and there’s a scratching at the lock and then the door swings open to reveal Cassie grinning at him, hair pin in her hand, “seriously?” Cassie jumps on the end of his bed. 

“Leather jacket, sunglasses, stubble, cheekbones to _die_ for,” Cassie says and Stiles stomach flips as he sits bolt up right. 

“Derek?” 

“Didn’t give a name…he your boyfriend?” Cassie waggles her eyebrows and Stiles groans, pushes her off the bed and ignores her glare. 

“No…he’s…” he pauses to think, best friend, Alpha…once in a life time? “Just a friend,” he finished and Cassie raises an eyebrow. 

“Uh-huh, sure he is,” she says, stands and straightens out her shirt. “If you’re not down there in two minutes I’m having him,” she says and stalks out of Stiles’s room. 

He doesn’t have time to freak out about what to wear, he doesn’t even want to think that he might, just pulls his red hoodie over his head and tugs a pair of jeans on and is downstairs in 1 and a half minutes. Cassie’s pacing in front of him and Derek blinks as he sees Stiles. Stiles feels something warm bloom in his chest, relief maybe? And he almost has the urge to throw himself at Derek, hold on and breathe in the scent of leather, and rain and _Derek_. 

“Red?” Derek raises an eyebrow and nods at Stiles’s hoodie. Stiles grins, shrugs and ignores Cassie’s confused look. 

“Thought it appropriate,” he replies and Derek’s lips twitch at the corner, “hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“Oh my God,” Cassie groans and they both turn to look at her, “seriously? I could like cut the unresolved sexual tension in here with a fricking spoon,” she throws a pointed look at Stiles and flounces out, slamming the front door behind her and Stiles rubs at the back of his neck. 

“Nice girl,” Derek says and Stiles lets out a laugh. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks and Derek shifts on his feet. 

“You didn’t call,” he says, quietly, but with a shrug of his shoulder like it means nothing that he just got in the car at stupid o’clock in the morning to drive here because Stiles hadn’t called.

“I did,” Stiles protests and Derek raises an eyebrow again.

“Yesterday,” he says, like that’s not good enough, like Stiles should be on the phone every night, not once every two weeks. 

“You didn’t answer,” Stiles sulks and Derek takes a step towards him, reaches out like he wants to touch except they don’t do that, not that casual easy touching, they do the in each others space thing, but not the touch, not skin against skin.

“I was busy,” Derek replies and Stiles looks expectantly. 

“You’re never busy,” Stiles teases and Derek growls softly in the back of his throat in mock annoyance. 

“Excuse me, I have a pack to run,” Derek defends, smiles threatening at the corner of his mouth. 

“And I bet you’re doing stella work without me,” Stiles grins and Derek rolls his eyes, gestures at the couch and Stiles nods. Derek sits and Stiles, he doesn’t have to, just gravitates towards him, sits next to him and presses his thigh close to Derek’s. 

“How’s it going?” Derek asks and Stiles lets out a laugh, hits his thigh against Derek’s. 

“Really? We’re going for small talk?” Derek shoves his shoulder against Stiles’s. 

“At least it’s communicating,” Stiles grins, spins on the couch so he’s facing Derek and crosses his legs. 

“Ok fine…what do you want to know?” 

…

Stiles watches Derek as Stiles talks at him. The tiny movements in his face, the twitches in his jaw, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he’s smiling, or scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip. And Stiles feels the stirrings of something low in his stomach, it cramps, twists and Stiles shifts, flicks his eyes down to avoid the heavy gaze Derek throws at him. 

They’ve always had this _intense_ , for lack of a better word, relationship, some people don’t understand it. Some people think it’s more than just two people finding trust in each other, and seeing something in each other that they can’t see. Stiles has always thought that too, they were just friends, but sitting there, looking at Derek listening to him, watching the way Derek reacts to Stiles, Stiles starts thinking that maybe there’s something more to this. 

When Derek scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip again Stiles starts wondering what Derek’s lips taste like, what they feel like, how his stubble would feel rasping against Stiles cheeks, down his chin, across his chest. He moves before he even realises what he’s doing. 

“Stiles…what are you doing?” Derek sounds worried, like a cornered animal as Stiles comes closer, lifts one leg over Derek and sits across his thighs. Stiles runs his fingers over Derek’s eyebrow, down his cheek, presses his thumb into the curve under his lips and doesn’t want to think of the last time his thumb was there, when Derek was dying in front of him, shot and dying. 

“I just,” Stiles says quietly, as Derek watches him intently, his eyes the only thing moving, flicking down to Stiles’s mouth, back up to his eyes, “want to try something,” Stiles lifts his other hand, runs it through Derek’s hair and watches as Derek’s eyes slide shut, there’s a flash of red when he opens them again and Stiles feel the something in his stomach move lower, his hips twitching towards Derek, “…tell me to stop.” 

“I…” Derek starts and Stiles runs his thumbs across Derek’s cheekbones, lowers his head. 

“Tell me Derek, or I’m going to kiss you,” he doesn’t know where this boldness is coming from. Before he left Beacon Hills he would have never had done this, never had taken the initiative and actually touched Derek like this, he didn’t even realise he wanted to. Derek feels like he belongs under his hands, skin hot, practically burning under his palms. Stiles lowers his head closer, parts his lips, darts his tongue out to wet them and Derek lifts his hands to Stiles’s hips. 

“Stop,” Derek growls and Stiles freezes, his hands still around Derek’s face, his lips millimetres from Derek’s, just a tiny distance. 

“What?” 

“Stop Stiles,” Derek growls against and pushes at his hips gently. Stiles lefts his face go, leans back and ignores the desperation, the need to kiss Stiles, that coils in his stomach. “I’m not going to be some kind of experiment for you Stiles,” Stiles flops back onto his side of the couch as Derek stands and runs his hands through his hair. 

“That’s not…” Stiles trails off, because he doesn’t know how he feels about Derek, all he knows is that in that second he wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel him. 

“I should go,” Derek mutters, throws one last look at Stiles. 

He doesn’t slam the door, but shuts it quietly, it still makes Stiles flinch. 

…

“What did you do?” Stiles blinks, rubs his hands across his eyes and pulls the phone away from his ear to stare at it. 

“What are you talking about?” He asks once he’s put it back to his ear, satisfied that he’s not dreaming. 

“Derek’s grumpy,” Scott says and Stiles sighs. 

“He’s always grumpy,” he replies and he hears Allison’s voice muffled in the background. 

“He’s grumpier than normal,” Allison shouts and Scott shushes her. 

“I didn’t do anything, maybe…it’s that time of the month or something,” Stiles sighs and Scott scoffs, “you know what Scott? I don’t really have time for this, so either get to the point or I am hanging up,” he snaps. He feels a spike of regret, but really, he’s just pissed. Angry at himself for maybe ruining his friendship with Derek, pissed at Derek for…

Well he’s not really sure what he’s pissed at Derek for but he’s pretty sure he’s got a legitimate reason. 

“Stiles, just…” there’s muffled voices, the distant sounds of a struggle. 

“Stiles, hun, are you ok?” Allison asks and Stiles feels his anger dissipate a little. 

“Fine, Al, honestly,” he says and he can imagine Allison nodding, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“Ok, well…go do your stuff and we’ll speak soon, love you.” 

“You too,” Stiles resists the urge to throw his phone across the room. He misses Derek. It’s only been a day since Derek left, and they’ve gone longer without seeing each other, but this is different, Stiles thinks that maybe that was it, that was the end, and Stiles ended it, by…experimenting. 

He’s still not sure what the hell he was doing, he’s never really looked at Derek and thought he was hot. Ok he _knows_ he’s hot, anyone with eyes knows Derek’s hot, but not the kind of hot where Stiles wants to rip his clothes off. 

Right? 

Stiles sighs, curses his overactive mind and pulls the duvet back over his head. 

…

Two weeks later and Stiles meets Annie.

She’s pushing her glasses up her nose with her little finger when Stiles first sees her, working in the library, curling a pencil absently around a dark blonde curl. Something about her makes Stiles go over to her, drawn to her and she’s got her head so far into a book that she jumps when Stiles sits down in front of her. 

“Um…hi?” she looks up warily and leans back in her chair. 

“Hi,” Stiles says, smiling easily and leaning forward to see her book. “ _Bulfinch’s Mythology_ ” Annie’s nose wrinkles, “light reading or…” 

“I’m in your class dumbass,” she says and Stiles leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, you’re Stiles, you talk too much, probably have ADD if the way you bounce your leg is anything to go by, you’re highly intelligent but you don’t like anyone showing it, you probably come from a small town where you’re the clown so it’s easier to be the clown rather than change people’s perceptions of you. And judging by the dark circles under your eyes, you’ve had problems sleeping recently, and I’m going for love life problems,” there’s a ghost of a smirk on her face as she leans back and mirrors Stiles’s crossed arms. 

“How do you know that?” Stiles asks, impressed and more than a little scared.

“I listen, I look, something you should try to do every now and then,” Annie goes back to her book and pushes her glasses up her nose again. 

“You’re Annie, you don’t talk enough preferring to stay in the shadows probably because you don’t think you’re good enough to be in the spot light, you obviously have no idea how attractive you are and you use your acidity towards strangers as a defence mechanism. How am I doing so far? Oh,” Stiles reaches out and closes her book. “You got one thing wrong, I have no love life, so there’s no problem.” 

Annie’s stares at him, but then her face breaks out into a grin and she sticks her hand out across the table at him. 

“Nice to meet you Stiles,” Stiles takes her hand, “how did you get my name?” 

“It’s on your Library card,” Stiles nods at the card lying next to her on the table and she laughs, reaches out and pulls it into her backpack. 

“No love life huh?” she asks and Stiles shrugs. 

“I know right? Who could resist this face?” Annie smiles again and looks down at her book. 

“Who indeed.” 

…

They waste three hours in the Library, get told to keep the noise down four times and Annie just flips the Librarian off each time. 

Stiles has to admit he’s a little in love. She’s amusing, sarcastic, clever, cute and when she smiles her face lights up. 

“So…what do you do…in your spare time,” Stiles stutters, his initial confidence waning and Annie raises an eyebrow. 

“You asking me out Stiles Stillinski?” she asks with an easy smile and Stiles feels his cheeks flame. 

“No…unless…” 

“I play World of Warcraft,” she says. 

“What?” 

“In my spare time, I play World of Warcraft,” she has a look on her face that Stiles knows means she’s waiting for Stiles to make fun of her.

“Spuck,” Stiles says and Annie’s face does this cute, confused twist. 

“I beg your pardon?” she’s got an almost dangerous tone in her voice like she thinks Stiles might be making fun of her and she’s daring him to do it some more. 

“I play a Goblin…,” Stiles says and Annie raises an eyebrow. 

“That makes sense,” she replies, the defensive look bleeding off her face, “you don’t strike me as the type,” she says, leaning back in her chair and pushing up her glasses. 

Stiles shrugs, “my roommate made me play it, and I kinda got hooked. Still pretty new to it though…what do you play?” 

“We really having this conversation?” Annie asks, twisting a curl around her finger again. She looks still slightly sceptical. 

“Yes,” Stiles says simply and Annie smiles.

“We better go get coffee then.” 

…

It’s not until their third coffee date that Annie kisses Stiles. 

“So I had fun?” Stiles runs his hand over his head and Annie raises an eyebrow, “wait, that wasn’t meant to be a question, because I did have fun, not like rollercoaster fun, but fun. Not to say that you aren’t as exciting as a rollercoaster. Rollercoasters make me vomit though and you don…umph…” her lips are soft, her hands small against his face. It’s brief, just a press of lips really, but even though Stiles still feels himself wondering, for a fleeting second what Derek’s lips would feel like. Annie pulls back and bites on her lip. 

“You talk too much,” she says and Stiles shrugs, shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“I babble when I’m nervous,” he admits, “not that I’m nervous, but you know…I’m just going to shut up now.” 

“Good night Stiles,” Annie pats his cheeks and smiles at him before she turns and walks away. She turns back once and waves briefly before she rounds a corner. 

…

“You kissed her,” Cassie points her fork at Stiles as he comes through the door. She’s got a mouthful of pasta and Stiles wrinkles his nose at her as he makes his way over to the refrigerator. 

“And?” He asks as calmly as possible. Cassie frowns as he turns around and unscrews a bottle of water. 

“What about Derek? You know, leather jacket? Designer stubble? Cheekbones to die for?” Stiles stomach twists at the mention of Derek and the memory of his stubble under Stiles’s palms. 

“Derek’s a friend,” 

“Hmm-mmm,” Cassie puts on her ‘bitch-face’. Stiles rolls his eyes and takes a sip of water. Truth is Derek is a friend, but he’s more than that, and the more time Stiles spends away from him, the more time Stiles spends with his finger hovering over Derek’s name on his contact list, the longer the silence between them the more aware of that he becomes. 

But Annie’s sweet, and clever, she makes Stiles laugh, she’s everything Stiles knows he _should_ want. Doesn’t mean that that night, his dreams aren’t filled with dark eyes, a flash of red, stubble rasping along his cheeks, across his inner thighs. 

He wakes up hard and can’t remember why. 

…

“I’ve got to go home for a few days,” Annie looks up from her book over the top of her glasses. 

“Ok,” there’s something wary in her tone and she nudges her foot against his shin under the table. 

“Just for a few days,” Stiles says again and Annie closes her book and curls her fingers together, rests her chin on her hands. 

“Ok,” she says again and stares at Stiles, “have fun.” 

“Just…”

“For a few days, I got it Stiles…” Annie bites on her bottom lip to supress a smile, “if there anything you want to tell me?” 

“Like?” Stiles looks down at his essay, he can feel Annie’s gaze on him and he taps his pen against the table. 

“Is there someone waiting for you at home?” Stiles looks up. It should be an easy question, it should be a no, but Derek floats to the front of his mind, the easy smile he has sometimes, that he throws at Stiles, or the more forced one, the one he turns on Scott and the others. The way his hands always seem to find Stiles, linger on his skin, the feel of his breath against Stiles’s lip. 

“I don’t know,” he replies honestly and Annie nods. 

“Well,” she says, closing her book and shoving it into her backpack, “go find that out.” She grins and leans across the table to place a light kiss on Stiles’s lip, “call me when you get back.” 

…

Stiles wants to drive straight to Derek’s, he doesn’t have a clue what he’s going to say but he wants to see him. Derek’s ignored his last two phone calls and Stiles has left babbling messages both times. Checking in, as Derek wanted. He doesn’t even know if Derek listened to them or not. But when Derek wants Stiles to do something, he may bitch and whine, but he does it. Because it’s Derek. 

He has dinner with his dad though. Catches up on the local gossip, the police gossip even though his dad tries his hardest to keep certain things from Stiles, Stiles can see how much his dad has missed talking to him, and Stiles has missed it too. 

He’s anxious though, to see Derek, to see how badly he’s damaged them and his leg bounces under the tables. 

“If you have somewhere to be Stiles,” his dad smiles at him and Stiles grins an apology. 

“Sorry, just…” he trails off and his dad nods knowingly. 

“Go see him,” he leaves it at that and Stiles doesn’t know if he means Scott or Derek. But the smile he throws Stiles as he jumps to his feet makes Stiles realise that his dad knows exactly what’s going on. 

…

Derek’s house is dark, there’s one light on in the sitting room but apart from that it’s dark. It looms out of the woods like something out of a horror movie, but after Derek became the Alpha it held no fear for Stiles anymore. He doesn’t know why, but something about it just became…safe almost. 

Stiles grips his hands around his steering wheel and sighs heavily. 

He’s here now, but he doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to find out what’s broken between them. 

Stiles jumps as the passenger door opens and Derek slides into the seat next to him. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt, probably black knowing Derek, he doesn’t look at Stiles, just squints slightly out of the front window. 

“You planning on staying out here all night?” he asks and Stiles ducks his head and drags in a breath to calm his nerves. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” he says and Derek does look at him then, raises an eyebrow and then turns away again. 

“How do you think I feel? You lurking outside my house,” Derek says, and usually, it would be said as a joke, but his voice is low and flat and toneless and it scares Stiles. 

“I wasn’t _lurking_ , I was… _contemplating_. And you heard me coming miles away,” Stiles says and Derek blinks at him, emotionless face staring back at Stiles. Stiles feels 16 again, and terrified of Derek, not knowing what he was thinking when a few weeks ago he knew. Or at least he thought he did. 

“You coming in?” 

“If I’m invited,” Stiles replies, staring imploringly at Derek for anything other than the blank canvas he’s getting right now. Derek slides out of the car. 

“When has that ever stopped you?” he throws over his shoulder and Stiles has to run to catch up with him. 

“Good point,” Stiles mutters as he trips up the steps. Derek flicks a look at him but opens the door and walks through it without saying anything. 

“What are you doing here Stiles?” Derek asks as Stiles shuts the front door behind him. 

“I just wanted…” Stiles rubs at the back of his head and Derek’s eyes narrow. 

“What?” Derek’s voices raises a hitch in volume and Stiles sees his hands clench at his sides, he takes a deep breath and when he speaks again, he’s under control, “What did you want?” 

“To apologise,” Stiles says, taking a step back. Derek may not scare him anymore, but the wolf does, and red is bleeding out of Derek’s eyes. 

“There’s no need,” and Stiles feels something like a punch to the gut. 

“Well you know, I think there is, because you’ve ignored my last two phone calls and you’re treating me now like you did when you wanted me to cut off your arm, which is a part of my life I would really rather forget thank you very much. And I think this has something to do with me trying to kiss you, which, in case you’re wondering was one of my worst ideas, up to and including getting you arrested for killing Laura. I have no idea why I tried to apart from the fact that I wanted to right then, and I think I still do,” Stiles trails off and Derek shakes his head. 

“Stiles,” he sighs. 

“Don’t push me away again because I think you want it too,” Stiles tries and takes a step forward. 

“I didn’t want to be you’re experiment then Stiles, and I still don’t,” he growls low and backs away again. 

“That’s not it Derek,” Stiles reaches him and curls his fingers into his t-shirt. Derek freezes and his nostrils twitch and something flickers in his eyes like pain. He lifts his hands and for a second Stiles thinks he’s going to pull him close, but instead, Derek uncurls Stiles’s hands from his shirt. 

“Go,” he says and nods towards the door. 

“Derek,” Stiles pleads. 

“I don’t want you Stiles, you hear me? I. Don’t. Want. You,” Derek spits out the last words and Stiles reels back, like he’s been hit, breathless like he’s been punched.

“Fine,” Stiles nods, narrows his eyes slightly and turns on his heel. He hears Derek call his name though, once, quietly, as he’s turning the ignition key, ignores and tries to see through the sting of tears as he drives home. 

…

He spends two days moping. Scott comes round, tries to make him laugh but all he achieves is making Stiles angry. He shouts at Scott and he leaves. Stiles ignores a phone call from Allison and watches crappy reruns with his dad, eating pizza and ignoring his dad’s pointed looks. 

And then its time to go back to Pacifica and Stiles had always though he would never be pleased to leave Beacon Hills. But he feels lighter as he gets closer to school, his chest becomes less tight. There’s still a Derek shaped whole in his life, even after two days, but Stiles knows he can deal with it. He learnt to live after his mother died for God’s sake, he can learn to live after Derek chucked him out. 

There’s still a lingering sense of anger, a niggling need to turn the car around, storm back into Derek’s house and say…

Well Stiles isn’t entirely sure what he would say but its more than likely to be uncomplimentary. 

His fingers tighten around his steering wheel, knuckles turning white and he tries to concentrate on the road instead of the impassive look in Derek’s eyes. 

…

Cassie’s waiting for him, sitting on the couch with her legs crossed under her and a mug of tea in her hands. She raises an eyebrow as he walks into the sitting room. 

“Noting happened,” Stiles pre-empts the question and Cassie purses her lips, forehead wrinkling.

“You mean to tell me nothing happened with Cheekbones?” Cassie lays the mug down on the coffee table and gets up to her knees, looks over the back of the couch through the window into the kitchen. Stiles ignores her and clicks the kettle on. “Nothing whatsoever? So the face like a wet weekend has nothing to do with the nothing that happened with Cheekbones?” Stiles sighs and Cassie rests her chin on the back of her hand. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?” 

“Cassie…” 

“Maybe he realised you were seeing someone?” Cassie muses, turning back and dropping out of view. Stiles sticks his head through the window. 

“What? I’m not seeing anyone?” Cassie leans her head back and arches an eyebrow, from this angle its weird seeing her upside down and Stiles pulls his head back into the kitchen and walks around to face her. 

“Remember Annie? Cute? Bit of nerd? Perfect for you?”

“He said he didn’t want me,” Stiles says dejectedly as he slumps down next to Cassie and lays his head on her knee. Cassie’s hand plays against his hairline at the back of his neck. 

“Was this before or after he figured out you were seeing a girl?” She asks and sticks a wet finger into his ear. Stiles yelps and jumps up. 

“Bef…” he starts, but then remembers the look on Derek’s face when he got close, the twitch in his nostrils and the way his face seemed to fall, the way he took a step back like Stiles had hit him, “…oh shit…I’ve gotta make a call.”

He’s pretty sure he hears Cassie mutter “that’s my boy” before he rounds the stairs and takes them two at a time. 

“Pick up,” he wills as the phone rings in his ear and Stiles grips tighter, he shuts his door and starts pacing just as the voice mail clicks in, _leave a message_ in a gruff voice that sounds like it couldn’t care less if you left a message or not and, despite the fact that he’s pleased Derek finally set his own voice message, he sighs, heavily, “Derek…It’s…me, and I just…ok you know what?” Stiles runs a hand over his head, “I know you said you don’t want me but I think you might be lying, because I think you might have smelled Annie on me because that’s what you do. You smell me, you smelt Peter on me and you smelled her too. That’s her name by the way, Annie. She’s nice, you’d like her, although you’d pretend not to, because that’s what you do isn’t it? You pretend to not like people, and not need them but I know you Derek, remember when I asked when we had become friends? And you said it didn’t matter? Well it doesn’t, you’re my friend and I _know_ you. So…fuck…Derek could you please call me back? Even if it’s just to tell me to fuck off and die, or threaten to rip my throat out with your teeth? I fucked up ok, I…Derek, come on Soul Wolf…D-Dog…it wasn’t an experiment…” Stiles lowers the phone, grits his teeth and ends the call, throws his phone on his bed and runs both hands across his face. 

He knows now, he fucking _knows_ , without a shadow of a doubt, that he wants Derek. It’s not just some experiment, some curious notion that made Stiles try to kiss him, he _needs_ to kiss him, because Stiles…Stiles needs Derek.

His phone rings shrilly and Stiles dives onto his bed and presses the answer button without looking. 

“Derek?” 

“No…Annie,” Annie says, amusement in her voice and Stiles tries to hide the disappointment in his own when he answers her. 

“Oh hey.”

“You expecting a call from Derek?” 

“Hoping perhaps,” Stiles replies and he can almost see the way Annie would push her glasses up her nose and nod, “listen, I need to talk to you, fancy a game?” 

“You back?” 

“About 20 minutes ago.”

“Sure, I’ll be over in half an hour, get snacks,” she hangs up and Stiles runs a hand over his head. He’s not technically seeing Annie, they’ve done nothing but kiss, and sure _Little Stiles_ gets excited but _Little Stiles_ gets excited about just about anything, but he still feels a pang of guilt, a ‘what the hell am I going to say to her’. 

_So I think I’m gay…_

_I’m in love with my best friends Alpha…yes he’s a werewolf…_

Nothing he comes up with whilst he’s showering seems appropriate. 

He lets the water run over him, rubs his hands over his face and down his chest, his fingers play across the start of the hair above his dick. He thinks of Derek, thinks of what he’s going to say to him next time he speaks to him, imagines how Derek will smile that genuine smile he only throws at Stiles, pull him close and kiss him hard, one hand cradling Stiles’s jaw, the other on the flat of Stiles’s back. His dick stirs and Stiles runs his hand down, curls his fingers around himself. He doesn’t mean to, honestly he doesn’t, doesn’t mean to run his hand up the length of himself, imagine how Derek’s larger hands would feel, but it’s like he gets it now, he gets that he wants Derek, so…it’s ok, in some way. The tiles are cool under his palm as he leans against the shower wall, water beating down onto his neck, over his back, and Stiles twists his hand, runs his thumb over the slit in his dick, bites on his bottom lip and comes, over the tiles. His come swirls with the water down the drain and Stiles shudders and he slides his hand one last time upwards. 

“Fuck,” he lets his head fall to the tiles and tries to chase away the phantom feel of Derek’s hands on him. 

…

“Cassie, popping out to get snacks, if Annie gets here…let her in this time please?” Cassie flips him the bird from the kitchen and Stiles sticks his tongue out but is pretty much convinced he’s not going to come back to find Annie on the doorstep again. 

He doesn’t find her on the doorstep, she’s sitting on the couch with her laptop over her knees and Cassie is no where to be seen. 

“Where’s Cassie?” Stiles asks and Annie flips her hair over her shoulder. It’s endearing the way she does that, because it’s not like Lydia used to, it’s not designed to get people to notice her, its because she’s irritated with it. 

“She went out…she doesn’t like me very much does she?” Cassie screws up her face and Stiles dumps a bag of chips in front of her. She grins and reaches for them, pulls the bag open and shoves one into her mouth. 

“She doesn’t really like very many people,” Stiles replies, hauling his laptop out of his backpack. 

“So how was home?” Annie asks, pointedly not looking at him. Stiles does the same and stabs at his power button. 

“It was ok.” 

…

“You know,” Stiles says, 20 minutes later, whilst Annie’s helping him level up. Annie wrinkles her nose and pushes her glasses up, makes a non committal noise from the back of her throat. “I feel sorry for the Worgen,” a low level one lumbers past Spuck, his Goblin, and Alkanost, Annie’s Blood Elf, chops it down with one blow. Stiles swallows as Annie grins, but then she pauses, leans back and fixes Stiles with a raised eyebrow stare. 

“You feel sorry for the giant werewolf things?” She asks, “they’re Alliance,” and Stiles presses pause himself. He drops his laptop onto the coffee table. 

“Well, I think they might just be misunderstood, like maybe they lost their entire family and they’re searching for a new one, maybe…maybe some stupid… _Goblin_ keeps messing everything up by being an idiot and not realising what was right in front of them for two years. Maybe…”

“Stiles, you do realise this is just a game right?” Annie asks when he trails off and Stiles nods, rubs at the back of his neck. 

“Who _is_ Derek?” Annie asks suddenly and Stiles literally feels the blood drain from his face. He knew he had to tell her sometime but he’d been enjoying burying his head in the sand for the last half hour. 

“He’s…” Stiles trails off and rubs a hand over his face.

“Friend? Best friend? The possible person waiting for you?” Annie asks, closing her laptop. Stiles shrugs helplessly. 

“I think he may be my once in a lifetime,” he says, like the big hopeless romantic girl that he is. 

“Oh,” Annie nods and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Does that make me sound gay?” Stiles asks and Annie snorts out a laugh. 

“No, the fact that you’re in love with a guy makes you sound gay not your choice of words although they were pretty girly,” she pokes him in the shoulder and Stiles rubs absently at the spot as she smiles easily at him. 

“You’re not mad?” Stiles ask incredulously and Annie shakes her head, a curl falls over her shoulder and she pushes it back. 

“No,” She shakes her head, “I like you Stiles, you’re sweet, but I think we both know you’re not _my_ once in a life time,” she grins crookedly and Stiles feels a weight lift off his shoulders. 

“Can we still…”

“Be friends? Course, moron. I need someone who’s butt I can kick in WoW,” she grins again and Stiles feigns hurt, clutches at his chest. 

“Harsh,” he falls back onto the couch and groans and Annie lets out a laugh. 

“But fair, Spuck,” she nudges his shoulder with hers as he sits back up. 

“Ok Alkanost, wanna play some more?”

“Only if you don’t have a second crisis of sexuality for the night and realise you’re straight and pounce on me,” she says with a laugh and Stiles pretends to think about it for a second. Annie raises her eyebrow. 

“I think you’re safe,” Annie furrows her brow and she shifts uncomfortably embarrassed. 

“He rang…” she looks down at her hands and Stiles feels a prickle skitter up the back of his neck, “whilst you were out, I answered it, thought I was being helpful you know?”

“What did he say?” Stiles is aware of how his voice sounds, desperate to know and Annie bites on her bottom lip. 

“Nothing,” she says, shrugging her shoulders, “well, he asked where you were and then he hung up, I should have told you sooner…sorry.”

“No,” Stiles shakes his head, “that’s ok…he doesn’t talk much anyway…but…”

“Look Stiles, I don’t know what happened this weekend but I think you should go home,” Annie says, and cups a hand around his face. She presses a kiss to his lips lightly, “go get him tiger.” 

…

“Derek?” Stiles runs up the stairs of the Hale house, trips and falls through the door. Derek’s leaning against the sitting room door frame, arms folded across his chest, face impassive as he stares down at Stiles trying to pick himself up off the floor, “Derek.” 

“Stiles,” Derek says as Stiles makes a move towards him, uncurls his arms when Stiles reaches him. He lets out a surprised huff of air as Stiles clasps his face in his hands, doesn’t give Derek time to protest or stop him even though Stiles knows in the back of his mind Derek could if he wanted to. Stiles kisses him, leans forward, presses their mouths together. Derek growls softly, his hands coming up to curl around Stiles’s wrist as Stiles runs his tongue across Derek’s lip. 

“Stiles,” Derek breathes as Stiles pulls away. 

“No don’t say anything…just…this isn’t an experiment ok? I mean it. Took me long enough to figure it out but I mean it. _Christ_ ,” Stiles says it right against Derek’s lips, presses the words into his mouth like that will make Derek believe it, Derek’s fingers tighten around Stiles’s wrists, “just…when I tried to kiss you,” Derek makes a soft, tiny growl in the back of his throat, “I didn’t know why I wanted to, but then…now I do know, because, Derek, it’s _you_ , don’t you see that?” 

“Stiles,” he says again and takes a step back. And Stiles takes a moment to lick his lips, to taste Derek on them. Derek growls again, quietly, as Stiles pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“No just shut up, ok? For once stop acting like the weight of the world is on your shoulders and just go with what you want,” Stiles cries imploringly and Derek shakes his head. 

“I thought I told you I didn’t want you,” Derek says. 

“You were lying, you smelled Annie on me and you thought I…was confused,” Stiles says and Derek raises an eyebrow. The first bit of emotion Stiles has seen on Derek’s face since he walked, fell, through the door. 

“And you know this for sure?”

“I know you Derek. You were lying. You were pissed at me which is why you ignored my phone call, but then you listened to my message and rang me,” Stiles says and Derek frowns slightly, “you rang me because you knew that I was telling the truth, that I want you, and I know I do, and you want me too. Jesus Derek I can still feel your lips on mine, is it always like that? Just…” Stiles shrugs, at a loss of what to say anymore, to convince Derek that he needs him, “ok this might sound strange, and a little creepy but I’m just going to go with it and you might have to shut me up, but today, in the shower, I thought about you, I thought about how your hands would feel on me, and how your stubble would feel against my skin and…” Stiles’s words are cut off as Derek takes one long stride towards him and covers his mouth with his own. Stiles lets out a groan that matches Derek’s, winds his arms around Derek’s waist as Derek licks into Stiles’s mouth, their lips slide against each other and Derek backs Stiles up against the door frame, the wood hard against Stiles’s back. 

“Shut up Stiles,” Derek mutters before kissing him again, and Stiles thinks he could stay here for the rest of his life, trading kisses with Derek, Derek’s hand cradling his jaw, his thumb sliding under his chin, pressing into the soft skin there to tilt Stiles’s head back a little. Stiles groans again and Derek growls and it rumbles through Stiles’s chest. 

“I just need you to get it,” Stiles says as Derek slides his mouth across Stiles’s jaw, bites gently on his ear lobe, his stubble catching on Stiles’s cheek. 

“I get it,” he mutters into Stiles’s ear, tongue flicking out against the shell and Stiles’s knees nearly give way. 

“Shit do that again,” he breathes, “do you get it though?” 

“I get it Stiles, now shut up,” Derek grumbles, pulling back to look Stiles in the eyes. And Stiles sees that he gets it. That Derek has wanted this for possibly longer than Stiles has, that he’s been waiting for Stiles to catch up. 

“How long?” Stiles asks and Derek cocks his head to the side, “how long?”

“Does it matter?” Derek asks back, thumb moving across Stiles’s cheekbone, his lower lip, under his chin again and Stiles lifts it, keeps his eyes on Derek. Derek’s eyes darken and he licks at his bottom lip. 

“I guess not,” Stiles replies and Derek groans as he leans forward and kisses Stiles again. 

It doesn’t take _Little Stiles_ long to become highly interested in the events unfolding and Stiles whines as Derek slips a thigh in between his. Derek slides his hands down Stiles’s arms, curls his fingers around his wrists and lifts his hand, presses them into the doorframe above Stiles’s head. 

“Stay,” he mutters darkly and Stiles can only nod as Derek leans down and bites gently on his collar bone. One hand stays wrapped around Stiles’s wrists and he gives an experimental tug and Derek growls softly, tightening his grip to just this side of painful. His other slides up Stiles’s ribs, fingers splaying out between them, thumb pressing into his skin and Derek presses his thigh upwards. 

“Derek,” Stiles whines again and Derek breathes out “shhh” against his shoulder. “Derek…I haven’t…I…” 

“Shhh,” Derek mutters again, lifting his head and nudging at Stiles’s nose with his own and shifts his thigh. 

“Oh fuck,” arousal shoots up Stiles’s spin, makes him buck against Derek’s thigh, strain against his hard grip around his wrists, “you need to do something man, cos… _this_ ,” Derek shifts his thigh again, “this is just cruel.” 

“Stop talking,” Derek murmurs and Stiles snaps his mouth shut with a click, “good,” he runs his thumb across Stiles’s lip and his eyes darken, “God…you have no idea the things I would do to your mouth,” he says quietly, under his breath almost like he’s talking to himself and Stiles shudders.

“How about _you_ stop talking and do _something_?” Stiles counters, bucking up and trying to escape Derek’s hold. Derek flashes a grin, reaches between them and cups Stiles’s dick through his pants and Stiles goes still. Derek’s hand is large, fingers long as they reach back and he squeezes gently and Stiles shuts up, except for the string of curses that falls from his lips. Derek’s thumb brushes against his pulse in his wrists and Stiles groans, presses his hips forward, his dick closer to Derek’s hand. 

“We need to move,” Derek growls and lets him go, brings his hands between them and rubs his thumbs across Stiles’s tingling knuckles. 

“What?” he asks eloquently because apparently having Derek’s hand on his dick makes him a babbling idiot. 

“Upstairs, we need to be horizontal…and less clothes,” Derek adds, looking Stiles up and down. Stiles opens his mouth and what comes out is one of the most embarrassing noises he has ever heard himself make. Derek just flares his nostrils slightly, spins Stiles around by his shoulders and practically shoves him the whole way up the stairs. 

Stiles is pretty much at a loss when he gets to the top and hovers until Derek plasters himself to Stiles’s back, splays his hands out flat against Stiles’s stomach, his fingers dipping bellows Stiles’s jeans. 

“Stiles,” his breath is hot and wet at Stiles’s neck, “move or I’ll make you come here.” 

And in no way does that makes Stiles want to come in his pants like the horny teenager he is. 

Except that it really does. 

“Alright, pushy.”

But Stiles moves, drags his feet down the hall which is kind of difficult with Derek plastered to his back, his teeth scraping over the back of his neck and he growls low in Stiles’s ear when Stiles tries to un-prise his arms from around himself. 

Derek tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, steps away enough to haul it over his head and then pulls Stiles back against him. And Stiles has a momentary flash of _when the hell did Derek take his shirt off_ before he realises he’s finally got his skin next to Derek’s and _Jesus_ Derek’s hot. 

And not just hot, I want to lick you hot, but hot, are you running a fever hot. 

“No, I’m not running a fever,” Derek mutters, his chest rumbling against Stiles’s back and Stiles takes a second to realise he said that out loud before Derek’s hands on his hips haul him around to face him. Stiles sees red chasing away from Derek’s eyes and reaches out to Derek’s pants. He should be scared, should think that Derek might actually rip his throat out this time, but something in the way Derek’s breath hitches as Stiles runs the backs of his fingers down the groove in the centre of Derek’s chest has him calming inside. The way Derek’s hips pulse forward when Stiles reaches the button on his jeans, and pops it open. 

Stiles is starting to realise just how he affects Derek. 

He realises it even more when he runs his fingers down, over Derek’s hard dick. Derek rumbles out a growl, closes his eyes and Stiles lets himself take half a step forward, cup his hand around Derek. But it’s not enough, he has no idea what the hell he’s doing but he wants more. He pulls the zipper down and runs his hands around Derek’s hips, pushes the jeans down his thighs, feels the soft hair on Derek’s legs brush against his palms and Derek’s hips jerk forwards. 

“Stiles,” he breathes and Stiles looks up in time to see the almost awed expression on Derek’s face. 

Stiles doesn’t even think, for once in his goddam life his mind isn’t buzzing, and he falls to his knees. Derek’s hands clutch at his shoulders. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just…” Stiles starts and tugs down Derek’s boxers. Stiles is pretty sure he’s never wanted to suck a dick, he’s never even really thought about, but Derek’s is right in front of him, curving upwards and there’s a drop of pre-come of the tip and Stiles leans forward, up on his knees, and licks at it. Derek lets out a groan, his fingers pressing into the skin, nails almost painful and Stiles doesn’t even want to think about Derek wolfing out right now. Stiles rubs his face across Derek’s thigh, breathing in the heady scent of Derek, musky and heavy, and he can taste him on the back of his tongue now, almost bitter but not unpleasant. 

“Stiles, you don’t have…”

“Shut up,” Stiles says, glancing up with a grin and Derek lifts a hand from his shoulder to cup at Stiles’s face. 

Stiles runs his hands across Derek’s thighs, explores every inch of skin he can see from this close distance, Derek’s quiet except for the small hitches in his breathing when Stiles runs his fingers over the backs of his knees. Stiles’s thumbs trace over the bumps of Derek’s hips, the flat plain of his stomach, the grooves of muscle, run down, trails down the length of Derek, his thumb nail scratching lightly over the tip and Derek curses, slides his hand over Stiles’s head, like he’s trying to find something to hold on to and Stiles suddenly wishes he’d left his hair grow out. 

“God,” Derek breathes and Stiles looks up at him. His eyes are closed but he seems to sense Stiles looking and he looks down, locks eyes with Stiles and there’s a flash of red as Stiles leans forward and sucks the tip of Derek’s dick into his mouth. “Fuck Stiles…” Stiles pulls back, licks at his bottom lip and Derek hauls him to his feet, kisses him hard, groans into his mouth as he licks along the roof of Stiles’s mouth. “Bed,” he mutters and kisses Stiles again, trails his nails down Stiles’s spine and pulls his hips flush against his own. 

“You’re gonna have to let me go for that to happen,” Stiles says as Derek nips at his neck. 

“Don’t want to,” Derek mutters and bites harder. Stiles runs his hand through Derek’s hair, grips a handful at the back of Derek’s head. He lets go when Derek lifts his head and narrows his eyes at Stiles. 

“Ok going,” Stiles mutters, holding out his hands, “jeez.” Derek stops him at the foot of his bed, spins him around and kisses him again, pushes Stiles’s jeans down and Stiles, after a flush of embarrassment steps out of them and sits down on the bed, shuffles himself backwards. Derek watches him, eyes dark. Stiles shifts, uncomfortable and unused to the scrutiny and Derek shakes his head slightly, but crawls over Stiles until Stiles has to lean back against the mattress. 

“You have no idea do you?” Derek runs a finger through the line of hair on Stiles’s stomach and doesn’t give Stiles time to answer before he speaks again, trailing his finger down and curling his whole hand around Stiles, “so unaware,” and then Derek draws his hand upwards and Stiles couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. 

Derek kisses him again, shifts his hips down against Stiles’s thigh and twists his hand and Stiles pushes his own hips upwards, fucks up into Derek’s hand and groans into his mouth. Derek shifts again, moves over Stiles and wraps his hand around both of them and the feel of Derek’s dick sliding against his own, slick with sweat and precome, Derek’s teeth dragging over the soft flesh on the inside of Stiles’s lip, it’s almost too much and Stiles feels his orgasm coiling in the pit of his stomach, the prickling of his skin at the back of his thighs. 

“Derek…I’m…” Derek groans, slides his dick against Stiles’s. 

“Yeah,” he groans, forehead pressed to Stiles’s, “come on Stiles, come for me.”

And because Stiles is obviously completely well and truly done for when it comes to Derek, he does, nearly bites through his bottom lip, but he comes, over Derek’s hand and himself. Derek growls again, thrusts his dick into his hand, it slips against Stiles’s and Stiles arches his back. 

Derek’s fingers press into Stiles’s scalp as he comes, and he kisses Stiles, groans into Stiles’s mouth as Stiles places his hands flat against Derek’s shoulder blades and just holds on. 

Derek moves first, he kind of has to what with Stiles being pinned to the mattress by his body. But Derek moves, shifts half off Stiles and hauls Stiles to him, turning them both till Stiles is draped over Derek’s chest. His fingers play against Derek’s skin, draw small circles around his nipple and Derek’s chest rumbles as his hand cups as Stiles’s jaw, tilts his head up and he kisses Stiles, just a press of lips this time, but its hard and promises more to come. 

“You’re a cuddler,” Stiles says with a grin as Derek pulls back far enough to search his face, “who knew?” 

“Tell anyone…”

“And you’ll rip my throat out with your teeth,” Stiles finishes and Derek huffs out a laugh and then lapses into silence. It’s an easy one, pregnant with unsaid things, but still easy and Stiles feels himself drifting as Derek’s hand traces the pattern of his own tattoo onto Stiles’s back. 

“Since you saved my life,” he says just as Stiles is drifting into sleep. 

“Huh?”

“You asked how long? Since you saved my life,” Derek says and Stiles lifts his head slightly, rests his chin on Derek’s chest. 

“Which particular time would you be talking about?” Derek rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up,” Derek mutters and turns them both, presses Stiles into the mattress and kisses Stiles. 

He has no choice but to shut up then. 

And honestly, he’s happy to shut up if Derek carries on kissing him.


End file.
